When first planning Heroin, I found myself revisiting the early inspirations that shaped my understanding of fashion - campaigns, editorials, and the images that linger long after the magazines are closed. I kept returning to the controversies of the 90s: the scandals, the celebrities, the sex. Those stories, splashed across tabloids and dissected in glossy features, almost always had a woman at their centre and rarely in a flattering light. She was often the scapegoat to a man’s ambition, indulgence, or indiscretions.

The paradox fascinated me. Women we idolized - icons of beauty and allure - could be publicly demonized for transgressions that, in many ways, mirrored experiences we ourselves navigate daily. And yet, despite the moral panic, the scrutiny, the judgment, we couldn’t look away. The men may have been in positions of societal control, but the women held the true power over our gaze. Their presence, their image, their energy, intoxicating and irresistible, dictated the terms of our attention.

With Heroin, I wanted to invert that dynamic. I wanted to reclaim the gaze, to interrogate the very idea of control. Here, the intoxication of feminine beauty doesn’t exist for male validation - it commands it. Men fall at the feet of women not as an act of submission, but as an acknowledgment of the force that has always been there, hidden in plain sight. It’s a shift from spectacle to agency, from objectification to reverence.

Where Tom Ford’s campaigns for Gucci once placed women provocatively over men, ‘Heroin’ positions the man beneath her heel. This isn’t degradation - it’s truth rendered through editorial imagination. The imbalance that has structured society for centuries is revealed not as myth, but as a social construct we have long been complicit in maintaining. By flipping it, the series questions who holds power, who is visible, and whose desire is dictated and by whom.

Ultimately, Heroin is an exploration of beauty as a form of authority. It’s about skin, shadow, and the magnetic pull of sensuality. It is unapologetic, intoxicating, and uncompromising, an ode to feminine energy in its rawest, most unguarded state. In a world eager to assign guilt or control, this editorial insists that the power of allure, the intoxication of presence, is always, and has always been, female.

Written by Harrison Sutherland-Brook

Founder & Editor-in-Chief